


the state of my heart

by princegrantaire



Series: a world with love [8]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Panic Attacks, Relationship Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 10:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17599943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princegrantaire/pseuds/princegrantaire
Summary: “Hi, Silver? It’s, um, Bruce. Wayne.” There might’ve been otherBrucesin between. He wouldn’t know. “There’s something I need to tell you, it’s pretty important. It’s not urgent though, I don’t think-- Call me when you can? I’d like to take you to dinner.”(Bruce needs to tell someone about Joker. Silver seems like the best candidate.)





	the state of my heart

**Author's Note:**

> i love silver st cloud dearly and this seemed unimaginably necessary! this is a companion piece (and something of a prequel) to @slaapkat's [season of hope (after the flood)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17464145), which is wonderfully written and involves bruce coming out to his family. the silver situation here is meant to serve as something of a stepping stone to that
> 
> major thanks to @slaapkat herself and all my love to @permaclown on tumblr <333

Silver St. Cloud, the closest Bruce had gotten to bliss. Back then, it might’ve even been exactly that, three years and he’d bought a ring. _The_ ring. It’s not in the back of a dusty drawer, at least. It’d been a mutual decision and a well-deserved gift. After another couple stops and starts, they’d figured friendship might’ve been enough.

It’s a neat little summary. Bruce repeats it to himself often. He doesn’t long for more, loves Silver dearly for whatever role she occupies in his life, but the normalcy he’d fallen into then is enviable now.

He hadn’t expected it to be easy but he hadn’t expected dread either. The suffocating kind, curling around his insides. Seductively comforting, really.

If it’s _this_ bad, if it’s inescapable dread and nothing more that awaits him, well, then he doesn’t have to go through with--

A year.

Joker’s been a permanent presence by his side for a little over a year, consistently in the manor, in the penthouse, his bed, in his _head_ too. The first time Bruce had thought about telling anyone, he’d had to resort to half-remembered breathing exercises from more than two decades ago.

The subsequent attempts had been… better. For one thing, Joker himself had been consulted in the matter. That hadn’t been the height of comfort, on account of a certain kinship in terms of the aforementioned dread, but Bruce’s heard communication does wonders for relationships. They’d talked it over. And over. And over.  And then once more. The conclusion’s simple, for their standards, and thus infinitely more terrifying.

Hence: a test run. An exercise in alienation, see just how many people Bruce can drive away with a couple of words. It’s rare that they don’t rush head-first into disaster.

So, here he is now, leaving his message after the beep.

“Hi, Silver? It’s, um, Bruce. Wayne.” There might’ve been other _Bruces_ in between. He wouldn’t know. “There’s something I need to tell you, it’s pretty important. It’s not urgent though, I don’t think-- Call me when you can? I’d like to take you to dinner.”

A response comes that night, and Joker’s in Bruce’s arms then and they’re both warm and mostly content, but Silver’s not due in Gotham for another month. That suits Bruce just fine.

In the grand scheme of things, he prefers it.

“You don’t _have_ to do this, y’know,” Joker says. It’s his own brand of compassion, muffled where he’s got his face buried in the crook of Bruce’s neck.

“I want to.”

Does he?

 _Yes_. Of course.

“I love you,” Joker breathes out and Bruce kisses the top of his head, gentle. He does want to tell someone, he thinks. He wants to tell _everyone_.

\---

Bruce is running fifteen minutes late, at least five of them on account of neither he nor Joker finding themselves immediately capable of tying a regular tie. Joker can, apparently, do bowties and not much else. Riveting, Bruce knows, and considers whether he’ll even be able to string together the necessary words.

As expected, Silver’s already seated when he gets there. It’s one of those places that’s the Diamond District through and through, Bruce’s almost certain not a single one of the rogues has ever ventured this far into the glitz and glamour.

Privacy has, indeed, been the main concern here.

Silver’s a vision in black and white, stylish as ever, fur coat draped over the back of her chair. Bruce’s wave is hesitant, vaguely embarrassed he’d made her wait, as the waiter leads him to their table.

“Bruce!” Silver kisses him on both cheeks, smiling brightly. The usual. “You made it.”

Apologies are in order but the rest falls into the grooves of easy familiarity. They’re just old friends catching up, that pushes Bruce forward for the time being.

It works.

It works _so_ well that by the time he’s helping Silver back into her coat and laughing so hard he has to stop and catch his breath at another one of her little misadventures in Europe, Bruce realises he’s yet to say a single word about his love life, let alone Joker. It’s a nice evening, floaty with champagne, but the plan hasn’t run its course and Bruce can already taste tomorrow morning’s guilt.

When Silver suggests drinks at her place, it’s hard to refuse. That’s how Bruce ends up on a moonlit balcony overlooking the city, wind in his hair like the one time he’d dared take off the cowl high up on a gargoyle, reckless just to see how it’d feel.

“My speciality,” Silver says as she hands him a cocktail. He doesn’t fight a smile, no reason to. “I know you don’t like them too sweet, DeeDee, but _try_ it.”

Bruce groans.

“Ever gonna let that one go?”

Silver giggles, shakes her head as she mouths _no_ before taking a sip from her own cocktail. Inspired, Bruce follows suit. It’s good, still sweeter than what he usually goes for. Joker would like it. Hell, Joker would _love_ it, he’s the number one fan of anything abundantly sweet.

“You’re in a good mood tonight.” Silver links her free arm with his, warm against the night. God, Bruce didn’t even know he was smiling. He still _is_. “Anything you wanna share?”

It’s now or never and it’s not laughter leaving Bruce breathless this time around.

“Yeah,” he manages, strangled.

He can’t. He can’t. He _can’t_. It’s what he came here for but Bruce knows loss too well, if Silver never talks to him again after this, if she--

 _Do you still have the ring?_ he wants to ask instead. Change the subject, cover his tracks.

“Bruce,” Silver says softly, closer than expected. She’s set their cocktails aside in the meantime, Bruce hadn’t even seen her do it. “Bruce, look at me. Breathe.” It’s easier when she’s counting with him. Breathing in and out. Silver’s hands cupping his face, just enough to ground him.

This isn’t him.

Batman doesn’t have panic attacks at the drop of a hat. Bruce Wayne hasn’t had the honour past his teenage years.

He kneels and pulls Silver along without quite knowing why.

“I’m seeing someone,” Bruce gasps out.

“Yeah? Bruce, you can-- you can talk to me, you know that.” Silver tries a smile. “You seemed really happy earlier, I was going to ask--”

Bruce can’t bear it. “It’s Joker.”

And that’s when time slows down. He waits for the flicker of disgust in Silver’s eyes. It never comes. She lets go for one agonising moment and Bruce can feel his heart stop just then, eyes screwed shut. Some small fragment of Joker makes itself understood then. Bruce wants, absurdly, to laugh.

He doesn’t make a single sound. Can’t even sob. Misery hasn’t dawned yet. It’s only despair now, so strong it’s rendered him motionless.

Stuck.

He’s stuck here.

Bruce focuses on breathing. For too long, his one concern is just that. He can’t feel the fingers carding through his hair, Silver’s soft murmurs, comforting words jumbled together. When he opens his eyes again, he’s surprised to still see her there. It nags at him like a missing piece of the puzzle, a night spent in front of the Batcomputer trying to put it all together.

“Do you love him?” Silver asks.

That’s easy.

Bruce’s never said it before.

“Yes.” He’s not crying and he’s not dry heaving either but it wouldn’t take much.

“Does he love you?”

“I think so--” Joker says it daily. Joker says nearly every time they kiss. Bruce can’t make himself doubt it. “Yes.”

Silver nods, like she’s thinking about it carefully. “Then I’m happy for you, DeeDee.”

It can’t be that simple. Bruce shakes his head, the words won’t come but the desperation tears him apart all the same. It’s not... _allowed_ to be that simple. He hugs Silver before he can help it, clings to her as he shakes his head again and again. Everyone knows what-- who Joker is. It’s not the kind of thing you’re happy about. Bruce himself barely understands it.

“Remember our second anniversary?” Silver’s speaking carefully, tone even but intentionally so. She’s clinging to Bruce too, giving as good as she gets, and still carding her fingers through his hair, like he’s always liked, like he told her once his mother used to do after every nightmare. Even the ones _after_. “The picnic on the cliff by the sea?”

He does. Of course. There’s a polaroid from that day in an album somewhere -- Silver’s lipgloss-pink lips pressed against his cheek, Bruce smiling so wide and so bright. A nod is all he can give.

“Did you ever take him there?” If Silver’s going somewhere with this, Bruce’s panic-addled mind finds no handholds.

Another nod. It’s hard to tell whether she feels it.

Once. He’s been there with Joker exactly once, at night, both quiet and solemn. An understanding had dawned on them. It was the closest they might’ve gotten to a date. A _real_ one, not the endless afternoons and mornings and nights spent in the one penthouse Bruce kept in the city or sneaking around the manor.

It’d been romantic, starlight and the whole nine yards. They’d kissed, time and time again, and Bruce had felt _so_ light, willing to let it go on for as long as they’d dare.

Harder to admit than he’d like, that’s for sure.

“See, that’s what I’m saying, Bruce. You’re still _you_.” Silver laughs and it sounds a little wet, like she might be tearing up too, there, on the darkened balcony with Bruce in her arms. “You know exactly one nice place around here and you stick to it. You’re the same guy who tried to pass of an engagement ring as a break-up gift. I _love_ that guy and he’s one of my best friends even if he’s dating the Joker.”

Bruce can’t help it, he laughs, still tearful but so very grateful. More than he knows how to put into words, than he’ll ever know.

“Wanna go back inside?” Silver asks. In a manner of speaking, it’s that alone that jolts Bruce out of his trance.

“Yes!” He’s quick to pull back from the hug, startled. “You must be really cold, I’m _so_ sorry!”

It’s the familiarity of exhaustion that guides them back inside, leaning against each other. It occurs to Bruce patrol is rarely this intense.

“I knew it.”

He takes in Silver’s smile, the twinkle in her eyes. “Knew what?”

“That you’re into guys too, DeeDee.”

Bruce groans. The immensity of one revelation had drowned out the other.

It’s still too simple. He’s nothing if not relieved.

**Author's Note:**

> HOPE U ENJOYED! talk to me on tumblr @ufonaut


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